


A cat in the tree

by Iolanfg



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Facebook: Mystrade is our Division Fic Prompts, Greg is Sweet, Humor, M/M, Mycroft is Sweet, Mycroft is a Softie, Mystrade Monday Prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:49:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27498244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolanfg/pseuds/Iolanfg
Summary: If Mycroft hadn't been so panicked, he might have noticed the absurdity of asking one cat about the whereabouts of another. However, the orange cat didn't seem to find anything strange in a human asking him questions, as he sat up straight at the table, squinting his green eyes and meowing something in a scolding tone.Written for the Facebook challenge Mystrade is our division Mystrade: a fic with the word JumpWritten for Mystrade Monday #7 I can take good care of myself.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 2
Kudos: 65
Collections: Mystrade is our Division





	A cat in the tree

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing belongs to me.  
> English is not my first language. I am sorry for any mistakes.  
> Thank you for reading!

\- I can take good care of myself!  
Annoyed and in pain, Mycroft freed himself from his partner's arm and dropped into the armchair, hissing in pain the second after.  
\- Does it hurt?  
Mycroft narrowed his eyes to the love of his life, or as he'd been calling him in his mind for the past few hours, his personal angel of death, mentally reviewing his injuries: sprained wrist, dislocated shoulder, sprained ankle, multiple contusions all over his body and a huge purple map on what this morning was the right side of his face.   
\- I've never felt better, honey.  
\- You are being sarcastic.  
\- Yes, of course I am. I think I have a right to be sarcastic.  
\- You were about to kill yourself!  
\- You were about to kill me!  
\- You were in danger.  
\- I was perfectly fine until you came along gesticulating and screaming like a madman!  
\- I thought you were trying to kill yourself! You almost scared me to death!  
\- Considering that I fell out of a first floor window because you scared me to death... And for the umpteenth time, I wasn't going to jump!  
The pain ran through him, making him hiss. The concern and the guilt on his partner's face dissipated the anger.  
\- I'm sorry, Mycroft. Really, I... I saw you there and...  
\- Come here.  
Careful not to harm the man any further, Greg knelt before him, gently embracing him, still with the shock in his body.  
\- I'm so sorry, Myc.  
\- It's all right. A week's rest and I'll be as good as new. I'm sorry I scared you.  
\- It's all right. You still haven't explained to me what you were doing up there, though.  
Suddenly, Mycroft tensed up, cursing himself for having been able to forget them. OK, the blow had been considerable and from the garden floor they had flown straight to the hospital, but still...

Three hours earlier.  
Mycroft finished placing the shopping in his office on the first floor of the house, packages and bags full of accessories to accompany the "surprises" he had prepared for Greg.   
Maybe he had exaggerated a little, but it would be worth it. After two years of dating, it had been six months since Greg had moved into Mycroft's big house, and the only thing the political analyst wanted was for the DI to feel that this was his home too.  
The papers to include Greg's name in the property register were in his safe, waiting for the moment when the veteran detective felt comfortable enough to accept it.  
Although they had fitted in perfectly with each other and were happier together than either of them could remember, the subject of money still made Greg a little self-conscious, even though Mycroft had told him over and over again that nothing he had was worth anything compared to having Greg in his life.  
So, for the moment, he was content to give him everything he had ever dreamed of, and to encourage him to redistribute and decorate as he liked, making room for Greg's things among his own.  
And among the things that Greg had always wanted and could never have, were...  
Mycroft turned to the table, where he had left the two little hairballs, opening his eyes like plates when he discovered that where there should be two little cats, a beautiful slate grey Chartreux and an orange Golden Tabby that Anthea had found by chance in the advertisement for a shelter, there was only one.   
\- Where is your friend?  
If Mycroft hadn't been so panicked, he might have noticed the absurdity of asking one cat about the whereabouts of another. However, the orange cat didn't seem to find anything strange in a human asking him questions, as he sat up straight at the table, squinting his green eyes and meowing something in a scolding tone.  
Mycroft shook his head.   
Cats obviously did not have a "scolding tone" and certainly did not use it to scold humans who misplaced cats.   
"Lost cat. Focus, Mycroft, it can't be far away ...."  
The sound of meowing from outside the window set him in motion.  
Cursing quietly for not having closed it before, he approached the window to discover, horrified, that the grey cat had not only managed to jump from the table to his desk chair and from there to the window sill, but had also managed to climb the tree next to it.  
Taking a deep breath, Mycroft called to him, trying to get his attention, only to have the cat give him a funny look, only to ignore him and keep sniffing at the leaves.  
"Cats don't give funny looks, Mycroft, focus," he chided himself as he thought about what to do next.  
He could offer him food, but I was afraid the animal would fall.  
He could call his agents to be taken down from the tree, of course.  
But he wanted to remain The Iceman in his work, and having his agents come to rescue his cat was not going to help preserve his image. As convincing as Mycroft could be, and he could be very convincing, it was going to be difficult to convince them that the kitten was in fact a spy.  
Gregory would surely know what to do.  
But calling his partner and telling him that he had to come back as soon as possible and get a cat out of the tree would probably remove the 'surprise' factor from his gift.  
There was only one option left.  
While jumping like a cat over rooftops was more Sherlock's speciality, Mycroft was not in bad shape.  
And if a cat could climb up there, he could.   
Remembering not to look down, he climbed up the window sill, cautiously approaching the tree and the cat that now... looked at him with curiosity? He reached out his hand and almost had it when he heard the scream.  
\- Mycroft, don't jump!  
Greg's voice startled him, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the ground. 

\- Mycroft, are you all right?  
\- What? Yeah, I... Oh, I completely forgot and...  
\- Mycroft, you're babbling. Do you need to go to the hospital?  
\- No! No, I just... Thecatgotupthetreeand....  
\- What?  
Mycroft breathed, in shame, thinking of how he was going to explain to the man he had promised to always care for and protect, who had not been able to care for two cats for twenty minutes, and who had now surely lost them. At least one of them.  
He opened his mouth to speak when two little shadows rushed into the room, curling up on their feet and climbing into Greg's lap, who was still kneeling on the floor staring at them in astonishment.   
\- Mycroft, what...  
\- As I was saying, the cat climbed up the tree.  
Greg looked at it, with a huge smile on his face.  
\- Did you...? Did they...? Are you sure? - When Mycroft nodded, Greg hugged him, earning an indignant snort from the cats.  
\- I always wanted a cat. I never thought I could have one... Thank you! It's the best thing anyone has ever done for me.  
\- I wanted to surprise you. I guess I succeeded, although not in the way I had anticipated.  
Greg hugged him tighter, making him pant in pain.  
\- Oh, I'm sorry, I...   
Greg looked at him cautiously again as the grey cat jumped nimbly into the armchair, tapping him on the nose with his soft paw.  
\- It's not your fault. I suppose I should have asked why they called him Huddini...  
Laughing slightly, happy, Greg kissed him, making every nuisance worthwhile.  
\- Well, we'll find a way to make him want to stay in this house forever. With me you got it. Now, is there anything I can do to ease your pain?  
Mycroft looked at him playfully.   
\- You know, they say wounds heal faster if you kiss them...


End file.
